


Behind A Painted Smile

by roelliej



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Mild Language, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roelliej/pseuds/roelliej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young man in his early twenties was hunting the way he did every week: calm, solitary but self-assured, while sipping from his drink. His eyes were travelling over pumped-up bodies and tight trousers.  He shook his head. Good taste was rare these days. But yet he was still here, searching and drinking, yearning for a good, decent fuck.  It had been too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind A Painted Smile

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings or Content** : Sexual Content, Language, Some Dubious Consent  
>  **Disclaimer** : All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. Author is not responsible for under-aged readers.  
>  **Notes** : Much thanks to the lovely D for the beta-check. I hope you like what I did with the prompt. :-)

* * *

_"Do you come here often?"_

It must be the cheesiest first sentence _ever_ , but what else could one say in the dark, concealed for spectators? Everyone who stepped through that particular door, concealed by the fall of the LED lightning, knew why he was here. It was an uncontrollable craving, impatiently waiting until fear and curiosity were evenly matched.

~*~

Something that happened on this particular night when the bass drum was pumping through the speakers, mouths were lavished with sweet drinks and minds were being overpowered by instinct. 

A young man in his early twenties was hunting the way he did every week : calm, solitary but self-assured, while sipping from his drink. His eyes were travelling over pumped-up bodies and tight trousers. He shook his head. Good taste was rare these days. But yet he was still here, searching and drinking, yearning for a good, decent fuck. It had been too long.

There had been men. Plenty of them. He still had needs. Needs that his right hand couldn’t satisfy. But it had been nothing more than shallow blowjobs in sleazy hotel-rooms or being wanked off behind a bush.

The man emptied his drink, trying to drown the sad feeling in his gut. He felt so cheap sometimes. But yet he was still here, hunting for another prey.

"Something’s wrong, Marco?"

The bartender. Doing his shrink-trick. Nice bloke, but fake. Like Marco was.

"Yeah, my glass is empty," Marco snapped, immediately regretting his haughty behaviour. "Sorry, not your fault."

"The clientele’s not to your taste this evening?" the bartender asked, an obvious sneer hidden in his question.

"It’s not that..." Marco mumbled, but fell silent when his eyes fell upon a man close to his age walking on the dance-floor. It was obviously his first time, because he wasn’t paying attention to the other men who were checking him out, rather improperly. Marco’s lips curled into a smile. Maybe the night was going to have a happy end after all.

"Marco, your drink..."

But Marco was gone, making his way through sweaty bodies. This seemed like an opportunity of a lifetime, and he wouldn’t want to miss that. Not even when the man had been cornered by Brian, the slapper of the neighbourhood and Marco’s equal. Almost.

"Hey, watch it!"

Marco turned his head, anger racing through his veins as he faced the man Marco had _accidently_ bumped into.

"Go and have a wank," Marco growled, pushing Brian away. "Leave him alone."

"And who made you Queen of the Ball?" Brian hissed, his fist on its way to collide with Marco’s face. Marco dodged and knocked Brian off his feet with a well-aimed backhand slap.

" _I_ did," Marco hissed. "Now get the fuck out of here, before I get really angry."

Brian cursed under his breath as his friends brought him back to his feet, visibly eager to continue the fight, but a bulky bouncer made quick work of him, firmly holding his arms behind his back.

"Enough fighting for tonight, Kinney!" the bouncer growled. "Off you go!"

Brian shouted several abusive words addressed to Marco as he was dragged out of the club. Marco smiled, before directing his attention to the beautiful man, who was trembling uncontrollably.

"You don’t have to be scared," Marco said softly. "He’s gone."

"H-He was... _touchy_ ," the man mumbled, his hand nervously going through his messy, brown hair. Marco had always hated tousled hairdos. Until now.

They looked at each other as the music continued, both searching for words as their gazes interlocked. Then lips connected with lips as hands groped and caressed, searching for bare skin.

"Room. At the back," Marco managed to say in-between sloppy kisses, his cock itching to be released from his trousers. The man nodded, his eyes darkened with lust as they made their way to satisfy their needs.

~*~

"Wow," Marco said, still sniggering about the other man’s unintentional innuendo. He licked his lips, savouring the unique taste in his mouth. He’d never believed it, but giving oral sex was heaven. The way Marco had reduced the man to a whimpering mess, wailing as he sucked him to orgasm, was indescribable. Marco almost felt sorry for what was about to come.

"I’ll buy you a drink," Marco whispered in the man’s ear, while trying to avoid the coupling men and the sticky puddles of come.

"T-That would be lovely," the man brought out huskily, still shaking.

They stepped out of the door, finding the club completely deserted. Marco looked around, panic racing through his body.

"Fuck..."

_"Stupefy!"_

Marco flew through the air, his mouth still open in shock as he crashed into one of the couches.

"Oh my God," the man cried out as the bartender walked towards him, a wooden stick in his hand was pointed towards him as his face started to change. Sun-bed-brown was consumed by freckles. The man must have thought he’d drank too much. If he hadn’t been familiar with this type of transformation. If he hadn’t been familiar with the ginger-haired man before him.

"Weasley," the man hissed through gritted teeth.

"You bloody idiot!" Weasley roared, studying the man as he waved his wand, muttering some words. "You’re lucky to be alive."

"What I do in my private life is none of your..."

"Everything single, fucking thing you do is my business, Malfoy," Weasley bellowed, grabbing the man called Malfoy by his collar. "Crown witness, remember? I’m assigned to protect you, remember?"

"Unhand me, Weasley," Malfoy said, but didn’t sound convincing. "I...I...needed some time off."

"To get your cock sucked off in a sleazy gay bar?" Weasley hissed, pushing Malfoy on a couch as he made his way to the unconscious body of Marco. "Do you realise how close he was to finish you off? I’ve been watching this _Marco_ for several days. There was something in his behaviour that troubled me. It was something familiar. So I kept a close watch on him, while searching for you. Then you entered the club, doing your virgin-act. I recognised it even through your Polyjuice-disguise."

"How..."

"Auror, remember?" Weasley interrupted, still fuming with anger. "Marco was quick to save you from the local slapper. Too quick. He must have recognised you. I was too late, so I had to wait to strike him down. You could have been killed..."

"Who..."

Weasley silenced him with a fiery glare. He waved his wand, and muttered an incantation. Marco started to shake uncontrollably, like he was having some sort of seizure. Then it stopped, sweat still visible on his dark skin.

"Zabini," Weasley and Malfoy brought out simultaneously.

"Little piece of trash," Weasley muttered to himself, his fists balled, shaking with anger. "It’s his style. Getting off, before going for the kill."

"I...I...we...did it," Malfoy whispered, a shudder of disgust going through his body. "And I liked it. I fucking liked it, and all he cared about was..."

Malfoy tried to suppress the emotions building up rapidly in his throat, but to no avail.

"You’re safe."

"He was my friend..."

"It doesn’t matter," Weasley said, placing a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder, while encasing Zabini in some sort of force-field with a slash of his wand. "It’s over."

"If it wasn’t for you..." Malfoy muttered, raising his head to face Weasley. "You saved me."

"That’s my job," Weasley said briskly, before turning away his head. "And because it’s personal."

"What are you talking about?"

"I... like you," Weasley said softly. "Merlin, I’ve tried to ignore it. That it was just a phase coming with the job. It wasn’t. I hate you, Malfoy. Your countless sneers about me and my family, your haughty attitude towards me. You are everything that I despise. Still I can’t get you out of my head. You..."

Malfoy interrupted Weasley with a fierce kiss, almost making them fall to the ground. Weasley struggled a bit, but quickly overcame the shock as he tried to keep up with Malfoy’s experienced kissing style, which was impossible. Malfoy sighed with relief as he felt familiar twists in his body, changing back to his old self as the kiss grew into something new. His heart was beating so fast, like it was about to explode. Malfoy wished the kiss would never end. Unfortunately...

"We _Obliviated_ the Muggles. What about...oh..."

Malfoy and Weasley quickly released each other, while searching for the source of the interruption. Weasley’s face turned into a snarl and growled something inaudible. Malfoy looked and understood.

"Oh dear, the plot thickens," the sneering voice of Zacharias Smith lashed through Malfoy’s short moment of pure happiness. "I have to report this to Head Auror..."

"What do you have to report, Auror Smith?" A voice came from the other side of the room.

Malfoy swallowed as his former nemesis walked towards them. The war had changed him. Malfoy had laughed about him in the past, but there was something in his posture that was different. He radiated authority. Malfoy lowered his head as Harry Potter looked his way, before turning his attention to Smith.

"I saw Weasley kissing Malfoy, sir," Smith said, not even trying to suppress the schadenfreude in his voice. Malfoy felt an arm around his shoulder. He inconspicuously tried to shake it off, trying to prevent Weasley getting in trouble, but Weasley refused to let go, boosting his grip in the process.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Potter said sternly and the gleeful expression on Smith’s face rapidly faded into nothingness. "That’s a serious accusation. I hope this isn’t some nasty way to discredit Auror Weasley."

"It is true," Weasley said softly. "I’m not going to deny it."

"Weasley..." Malfoy began, being familiar with the Gryffindor’s irritating habit to sacrifice themselves, but Weasley raised his hand to silence him.

"Ron..."

"I kissed him, Harry," Weasley said resolutely. "And I liked it. That’s all I have to say."

"Such a shame," Smith said, pulling a face like he’d just experienced his first orgasm. "Clearly fame isn’t everything, is it, Auror Weasley?"

"Thank you, Smith," Potter said briskly, visibly fighting the urge to curse his assistant into submission. "You do realise that I don’t have a choice, Ron?"

"Yes..."

"He will be fired," Smith interrupted, nearly crying with malice. "And he will be forbidden to ever see Malfoy again."

"Not exactly," Potter said vaguely.

"Those are the rules, Head Auror!" Smith protested, spit flying out of his mouth.

"Why do I need to fire Auror Weasley when nothing has happened?"

"What...?" Smith brought out, before Potter quickly took out his wand, aiming it at Smith.

_"Obliviate!"_

Smith’s pupils became wide and he mumbled something about needing to finish a report. Potter put away his wand when Finnigan and Longbottom entered the club.

"Auror Smith really has been working too hard lately," Potter said. "Would you be so kind to escort him home? Oh, and Auror Finnigan? Could you please take Zabini to his new home? "

Malfoy looked at Finnigan and noticed that his hands started to shake. It almost looked like he and Zabini had had some sort of history.

"Seamus," Potter said, a mix of compassion and caution audible in his voice. "I know what you’re thinking right now. I thought about it. I really did. But it would be too easy. We have to show them that our system works."

Malfoy saw Longbottom and Finnigan frowning, but they did as they were told.

"Harry, you idiot!" Weasley hissed after he'd made sure no one could overhear their conversation. "You can’t always save my arse."

"So you better make this work then," Potter said firmly. "So I won’t have to do it again."

Potter made his way to the locked dark room and opened it with a wave of his wand.

"Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?" Potter said without turning his head as he began to erase the memories of the naked men.

"Right," Weasley mumbled, before Disapparating Malfoy and himself back to Malfoy Manor.

~*~

A loud smack ringed through the large kitchen as a hand made contact with a pale cheek.

"I was worried sick," Mother said, her eyes wet with tears and anger. "If you do this once more..."

Malfoy braced himself, shutting his eyes, but he was spared from another burning cheek.

"Auror Weasley, would you be so kind to escort Mr Malfoy to his quarters?" Mother said softly, still shaking uncontrollably. "Tie him to his bed if you must."

"As you wish, Ma’am."

The refusal of Malfoy’s mother to look at him hurt even more than her fierce right hand.

"Auror Weasley?"

"Yes, Ma’am?"

"You better be good for my son. I’m afraid Potter’s Memory Charms won’t save your neck if you’re not. That will be all."

"Yes, Ma’am."

Malfoy was almost sure he saw the slightest indication of a smile on his mother’s face as they stepped out of the kitchen. He sighed happily as Weasley pulled him close when they walked towards Malfoy’s bedroom. He heard Weasley’s heartbeat growing louder. Clearly he hadn’t been the only one looking forward to take his mother’s words literally.

~*~

"Merlin, Malfoy!"

Malfoy hummed in pleasure as his tongue flicked over Weasley’s leaking slit, sucking him hard and relentlessly. He deserved it after an agonizing slow fuck as Weasley had speared himself onto Malfoy’s swollen cock over and over again.

"Malfoy, stop. Please stop. I’m going to..."

But Malfoy couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to. He stroked Weasley fast while sucking and licking the head. A low cry left Weasley’s mouth, his eyes wide open as he reached orgasm. Malfoy kept stroking and sucking, until there was nothing left to give.

"I really like you, Draco," Weasley mumbled, before drifting off to sleep.

Malfoy felt his throat tightening as he placed his head on his lover’s chest. He liked him. He really liked him. He had become _Draco_ again.

"Like you, too, Ron," Draco said, before joining his partner in peaceful slumber.  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave a comment here or on [Livejournal](http://ron-draco-fest.livejournal.com/14282.html). ♥


End file.
